


i am out of my depth at this altitude

by skvadern



Series: skvadern does the heart of aphrodite [4]
Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Crushes, F/M, Mid-Fight, Peril, Pre-Relationship, Promises, The Heart of Aphrodite 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-14 19:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29051043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skvadern/pseuds/skvadern
Summary: He’s unarmed, completely defenceless, and – fuck, fuck, fuck – cornered.For The Heart Of Aphrodite Day 4: Friendship - Oaths - Nature
Relationships: Azu/Howard Carter (Rusty Quill Gaming)
Series: skvadern does the heart of aphrodite [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149617
Comments: 12
Kudos: 25
Collections: The Heart of Aphrodite





	i am out of my depth at this altitude

**Author's Note:**

> this day i present: someone dies but its soft. also, whoooof aren't paladins intense  
> title from heart by sleeping at last

Howard’s knives are all gone. Some he’d thrown, and had to flee before he could pick them up. Some he’d dropped, or left embedded in his enemies’ bodies. He’s unarmed, completely defenceless, and – fuck, fuck, fuck – cornered, now, because he’s never been in this building before and the corridor he was sure would lead to a staircase is a dead end.

He skids to a stop, shoulder bouncing hard off the brick wall as he twists to face the thing chasing him. Once a human, a middle-aged man with strong arms and a bit of a paunch and a really impressive moustache. Probably a labourer, who came home to a large and beloved family at night. Deep smile lines. Now those grooves are highlighted by the sickly net of cobalt blue just under his skin, turning his tan an unhealthy grey.

There’s no sadistic grin on his – its – face, no glint of triumph in its eyes. The blue-encrusted thing that had once been a person just looks blank, empty. It advances on him like Howard fancies one of those simulacra would, the ones Wilde had been so worried about before the world came apart; steady and relentless, as cold as the steel of the morningstar it’s carrying.

Begging won’t do any good, Howard knows that, but the pleas still crowd onto his tongue. He’d sort of thought that having died once, he’d be less scared about it happening a second time, but Gods, he’d been wrong. It’s _terrifying_. Like that sickening, disorientating fall, flung through emptiness for what felt like forever, knowing deep in his bones that he wouldn’t survive the landing but moving too fast to make his peace, say any prayers.

Squeezing his burning eyes shut, gasping for his last breaths, Howard tries to pray. It’s no use. There’s a high, distant whine in his ears, and he can’t think through it.

So he just waits, heart pounding, for everything to stop.

An unearthly wailing explodes through the silence, just on the edge between melodic and discordant, blending in with a broken yell of pain that tapers into a gurgle. There’s heavy thud, the sound of something slumping to the floor, then quiet again.

Wincing, shivering, Howard opens his eyes.

The first thing he sees is the gout of muddy-coloured blood smeared across the floor, shimmering and steaming in the cold of the warehouse corridor. The second is the bright pink colossus standing over him, wrenching her axe out of the blue-veined man’s body with a sickening sucking sound.

Azu studies the corpse for a moment, face grave, then all her attention is on him. “Are you hurt?” she asks, and there’s real worry in her voice, eyes wide and soft.

“I…” Howard concentrates, taking inventory. His heart is still pounding, head swimming with the comedown of pure and mortal terror, but no, by some miracle, he’s not injured. “I’m okay.” His eyes flicker to the body slumped on the floor, still bleeding sluggishly into the rough floorboards. “Thank you.” He tries not to let his voice tremble, really he does, but it’s a lost cause.

“I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” Azu replies, for all the world like that’s a perfectly normal thing to say, and Howard blinks wildly at her.

“I… don’t think you ever did,” he manages at last. “Not in so many words, you know.”

Azu smiles, soft and gentle, and fuck, Howard can feel himself melting at that look. She crouches down in front of him, all six foot plate-armoured six of her, and catches his gaze with her warm, brown eyes. For the life of him, Howard can’t look away.

“I promise, then,” she says, with all the granite-carved solemnity of a paladin, words you know you can trust because there’s a literal god backing them up. “If it’s in my power to do so, I’ll never let anything hurt you. Alright?”

Is it his imagination, or are her eyes actually shining?

“Yeah,” Howard manages, his tongue suddenly clumsy, stone-heavy. “That’s, that’s alright, yeah.”

“Good,” Azu says, and that massive hand of hers cups his face, so warm against his burning cheeks. “We already lost you once, Howard. I won’t lose you again.”

Any reply withers in Howard’s mouth. This godsdamned woman, all strength and hope and love, and he can’t even mock her for a fool, not when she’s got the seal of approval from an actual deity. And her touch is so _gentle_ , how can she be so gentle with him after cutting a man down with a single swing of her axe?

With one quick swipe of her thumb over his cheek – the path of her touch is so clear along his face that he might as well be branded – she pulls away and straightens up, rolling her shoulders back and settling her axe back in her grip. There’s a moment, where she glances back down at the body, where Howard realises, properly realises, that his paladin is _young_. He forgets, sometimes – the way she carries herself, more peace and purpose than he’s ever had. But no, she’s probably only in her twenties, comparatively speaking.

Suddenly, he wants to gather her close, pull her down until her head is tucked into his shoulder and she doesn’t have to see any more butchery, ever again.

Then the look passes, and her shoulders straighten, and she’s a holy warrior once more. “Come on, Howard,” she tells him, extending a hand to him, “get up. We still need you.”

It’s not a demand, not in her mouth, and he finds himself taking her hand, letting her pull him effortlessly to his feet. When he’s up, she claps him on the shoulder, not hard enough to stagger him but fuck does he ever _feel_ it. It’s all he can do not to collapse into her arms.

“You can do this, my friend,” she tells him, whole face glowing with her faith in him – faith in _him_ , from a _paladin_ , oh he could weep – and then she’s turning, jogging back down the corridor, towards the fight.

Howard stares after her helplessly, head spinning. The near-death experience was one thing, but hey, he’s almost died before. This, though…

Oh, he is _truly_ fucked.

Shaking his head and cursing under his breath, he stumbles off after her. Wouldn’t do to disappoint the woman who just saved his life, after all.


End file.
